Page 4 of Sweet Torment

“I’m taking it exactly as seriously as it deserves,” Megan counters. “Our girl just went full river witch on some abusive asshole, and now she needs sustenance. Circle of life.”

“That’s not how the circle of life works.”

Megan tuts and then looks at me again. “Babe, in all seriousness, you’re getting sloppy, and orange really isn’t your color. You’re far too pretty to be someone’s prison bitch.”

“Who says I’d be the bitch?”

Ezra looks in the rearview mirror and rolls his eyes as Megan snorts. “You really need to stop believing you’re invincible.”

But I don’t think that at all. If anything, I know exactly how breakable I am. Maybe that’s why I keep pushing… to see if I can feel something besides the emptiness before I finally shatter for good.

Once we reach the restaurant, Ezra orders enough food to feed six people. No matter how mad he is, he always takes care of me.

“This stops now,” he says, keeping his voice low as we wait for the food. “The killing ends tonight, or I’m done. No backup, no resources, nothing.”

The finality in his tone makes my stomach drop. “You’d really cut me off?”

“To save your life? In a heartbeat.” He takes the bags of food and passes them back. The smell of grease and salt fills the van, making my mouth water. “To save ours? Also yes.”

“Even if⁠—”

“Even if,” he cuts me off. “Bianca, I love you. We both do. You know that. But I won’t watch you destroy yourself. And I won’t let you take us down with you.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it deeply, even though I wouldn’t change what I did. “I just... He almost killed her, and there was no remorse.”

“I know,” Ezra says, his voice softening. “But this path you’re on? It only ends one way.”

“Yeah,” Megan agrees around a mouthful of fries, “with you dead or in prison, and us either with you or mourning you. Neither option is particularly appealing, just so you know.”

“So... the bodycam stays on from now on,” Ezra says. “The earpiece stays in, and communication remains open. The tracker is non-negotiable. You follow the protocols. Those are my terms.”

I swallow hard. “Fine.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

I don’t know if I can change—if this darkness inside me can be contained or if it will eventually consume me whole. But as I scarf down my food, still dripping evidence of tonight’s activities onto the floor of the van, I pretend I can be saved.

Pretend I want to be.

But deep down, where even Ezra’s perceptive eyes can’t reach, I wonder if there’s anything left worth saving or if I crossed that line long ago, back when four boys I loved more than anything taught me exactly how disposable I really am.

2

BIANCA

Present Day

I blink, struggling to focus. My body feels weighted down, the lights overhead too bright. There’s no smell in the air, no sounds… no way to ground myself. Something tight circles my neck, irritating my skin. I try to reach up to investigate, but my right arm won’t budge.

What the fuck?

I tug harder. Nothing. A restraint bites into my wrist.

Then I realize that my other arm is free because I’m already using it to claw at the restraint, but I’m accomplishing nothing. I blink rapidly, willing the fog in my brain to clear. The world comes into focus bit by bit. A sharp pain draws my attention back to my neck, and I use my free hand to probe the tender skin there. My fingertips trace along the rough edges of a wound. I feel around gently at first, then push harder, exploring its contours.

And then it hits me like a fucking freight train.